


Wrong Choice

by supertrash_lana



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Everyone Is Gay, Gangs, Guns, Jon loves his sledge, Literally everyone - Freeform, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, and his sniper, lotsa guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supertrash_lana/pseuds/supertrash_lana
Summary: Jonathan is - needless to say - a fan of the most renowned gang in the city. When he goes out to record one of their brawls, a night that was supposed to be like any other gets him into the biggest trouble he'll ever get caught in. Falling off a building leads up to him waking up in a strange room he's never been in before that clearly isn't a hospital. That's when he realizes he never should've left the house...A story of crime, hatred, romance, not following directions, and getting hurt.





	Wrong Choice

He had grown annoyingly accustomed to situations like this.

Being pinned into the corner of a room, surrounded by ruthless gang leaders all armed with lethal weapons. It was fairly common, but nothing he couldn't handle himself.

He began to reach subtly for his back pocket, where he conveniently stored his pocket knives. I mean, hey, they're called _pocket_ knives for a reason! He groped the blade end of his pocket knife, accidentally slicing open his whole left hand through his glove - but it didn't matter to him at the time - and throwing it an angle where it cut open one of the men's arms and bounced off the opposite wall, returning back into his gloved hand. Now with one less man cornering him, he spun around and roundhouse kicked another in the face while simultaneously catching the first man's pistol in mid-air and shooting the last man in the chest with it, dropping the gun with a satisfied sigh and beginning to walk away. He didn't get very far before he heard,

"Well, that was quite the show you put on back there. A shame you didn't finish them off like you normally do." The stranger in question gesturing to the three men still alive and writhing in pain in the corner of the room. He shrugged,

"I don't want to be convicted for murder, do I?" He stuffed the knife back into his back pocket before wincing at the pain that was now settling in his whole left hand. He breathed in through gritted teeth while clutching his left hand with his right.

"Injured? A rookie mistake, I gotta tell ya'."

"Wouldn't be the first time. Certainly won't be the last. If you're meanin' to tell me you haven't gotten hurt in the past few days, you gotta be pulling my leg." He smiled under his disguise and shook his head. The sky outside dimmed and the stranger spoke,

"Jonathan."

"Wh-"

"Jonathan! Jon! Jon, what the fuck!"

"What?!" He blinked a few times before opening his eyes.

 

"What?! What-?!" He sat up in bed, the side of his face stinging. He looked to his left to see his friend, Luke.

"Thank fucking god. Thought I was gonna have to slap you again. I made you some breakfast since I'm leaving for work in about half an hour. You haven't eaten in days. Get up."

Oh. It was just another one of those really intense dreams. He'd developed this really strange alternate persona in his dreams he'd called Delirious. Delirious always fought other gang members and actually knew how to fight like a total badass while Jon... Well, Jon lived in an apartment with one of his best friends who basically kept him alive.

"Th-Thanks..." Jon rubbed at his eyes, blinking to make sure he was alive, "How long are you going to work?"

"Five days at most. Twenty-four hours at least." Luke sighed, rolling his shoulders and pulling Jon onto his feet. Jon groaned as he found his balance,

"'Kay... Just be careful. Those gangs are still out there... Armed and dangerous, y'know..." He slurred, struggling to keep his eyelids open.

"Yeah..." Luke drawled awkwardly before, "Sorry for slapping you. You _really_ didn't want to wake up this time. Good dream?"

"Eh... Felt pretty badass, though. Wish I could do that in real life..."

"Do what?"

"Ah, nothing. You'd think it's stupid anyways." He laughed goofily, "You think all my ideas are stupid."

"Alright, idiot. Take care of yourself while I'm gone. Don't get into any trouble, don't kill the water bill (or the power bill), don't answer the door for strangers, water the plants, don't stay up too late playing video games-"

"Luke, you're not my mom!" Jonathan laughed, "We don't even have plants..."

"Fine! I have to get ready, then I'll be off. See you later, dude." Luke gave him a hug before leaving Jon's room and shutting the door behind him gently. Jon let out a breath that he'd been holding for some reason and stumbled over to his closet, picking out his usual outfit: a light blue hoodie, a grey t-shirt, and black jeans. He looked at himself in the mirror. Blue had always been his favorite color, especially the blue that matched his bright eyes. Jon's eyes were his favorite feature of himself. It's what everyone always complimented and it made him feel better. His hair was a cool toned black, short and typically messy, even when he did brush it out. But he liked it like that anyways. He was fairly pale, as he didn't get out much, and he was pretty skinny. Jon shook his hair out and turned the knob of his bedroom door, exiting out into the hall and going over to the kitchen, picking up a plate of food Luke had left out for him. He stood and leaned on the counter, occasionally picking at his food, but mostly just lost in his own thought. A few minutes later, the familiar creak of Luke's bedroom door sounded and Luke came out of the hallway, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Oh, look who's actually up to see me off this time." Luke hummed.

"Yeah, yeah. See you later, loser." Jonathan waved his fork at his friend as Luke saluted playfully back to Jon and carefully shut the front door behind him. Jon never really did anything during the day. He liked to take walks through the city at night and play video games during the day, leaving him minimal time for sleep; just the way he likes it. Should he do something today...? Eh, he'll just sit on the couch and play some Rainbow Six.

\-- About ten hours of switching between video games later... --

Jonathan lazily glanced over at the clock: Eight P.M. His favorite time to go out for walks. He ran over to his bedroom, grabbing a random bag that already had something in it (he was too lazy to check its contents), and stuffed a few things into it - some snacks, twenty bucks, his phone, another outfit just in case he got cold, and a little switchblade just in case he got mugged (you never know!). He slung the backpack over his right shoulder and flung himself out the front door, leaving the key under the door mat. Jon excitedly trotted down the stairs and jumped onto the cement sidewalk, taking off at a sprint down the road towards the sound of police sirens. He loved to follow the sound of the sirens because where there were sirens, there was almost always the coolest gang in town, and he loved to get videos - albeit shaky and pretty far away - of them beating up the bad guys! After about two blocks of full blown sprinting, he stopped for a rest, kneeling on the curb and reaching into his bag for a snack. Near the bottom, he felt something familiar. He pulled out the contents and laughed once he saw it.

Out he pulled a costume he wore last Halloween, which he'd stuffed into his backpack when he got tired of wearing it. He and Luke went out every year to scare kids who didn't know any better. He pulled out the costume of Jason Voorhees, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips,

"Cool." He laughed to himself, putting on the mask and gloves, but stuffing the coat and fake machete back into the bag. The paint on the mask was slightly chipped, but it still looked cool as hell. Jon ate a snack and continued running, taking a turn at the next intersection and spotting the flashing of police lights and the yelling of gang members. He gasped and climbed up a fire escape to get a better view, pulling out his phone to take a video. He began recording from afar,

-

"They went that way officer!" A citizen pointed down the street where Jon's camera shakily panned to about three or four muscle cars revving down the street at full speed away from the scene. Jonathan gasped, bolting up and turning off his recording, sliding down the ladder of the fire escape and chasing after the cars as fast as he possibly could. 

He ran for god knows how long - really only six blocks - but once he stopped to rest against the cement of a parking garage, he was completely out of breath. Jon slid down the side of the building, plopping onto the ground in defeat, his breath showing up in white clouds in the cold air. He tugged his backpack off and rummaged through it, searching for the trench coat he left in there in case he got cold. He found it near the bottom, under the rest of his Halloween costume, and pulled his hoodie off while putting on a grey turtleneck and a trench coat, its navy blue color also shamelessly matching with his eyes. Needless to say, he felt cool like a gang member right now, even if he was breathless and cold on the side of the street. His hung head shot upwards when he heard the screeching of tires drift themselves into the parking garage he was leaned against, racing each other up the levels. Jon immediately perked up and began up the pedestrian stairs to beat them to the top, taking his switchblade and his phone to catch it on camera. He made it to the roof a few seconds before the four original cars and two new cars spun out onto the roof, Jon turning on his recording. Eleven people got out of the four cars and four people got out of the two different cars. They began an all out brawl with not only their fists, but also their firearms and melee weapons. Jonathan felt dangerous... Or in danger. He'd never been this close to one of their gang fights before. He snuck closer, hiding behind one of their cars and recording through the closed windows before one of them whistled loudly and all went silent. Jonathan held his breath before his phone's recording made a long _beep_ noise and all guns pointed in his direction. One of the men from the smaller gang paced around the car, spotting Jonathan and grabbing him by the collar, holding a pistol up to his head.

"Ha! What're you gonna do now? Shoot an innocent civilian?!" The member taunted, holding Jonathan in front of him. One of the larger gang's member's eyes narrowed as if he were trying to decipher something before lunging towards Jon and the member holding him hostage took a step back and shot Jon in the left bicep, causing him to yell out in pain, having never been shot before. The member holding Jonathan hostage kept backing up, the further the opposing gang closed in on him, until his heels were practically hanging off the end of the building. The man clutched Jon by the neck and held him over the edge.

"Don't fucking drop him!" One of the members growled.

"Why? It's just a person! What could one more on my death count do to me?"

"Goddammit, put him down!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Give us the cash, and this little civilian lives." 

"A-"

"Fuck you!" A different gang member yelled, whipping out his pistol. Jonathan was losing the ability to breathe at this point, being held by the neck so tightly for so long.

"Fuck-!" Jon groaned through gritted teeth.

"Looks like he's not doing so well..." The man snickered, squeezing Jon's neck even tighter, "Better make a decision quickly, boys."

None of the members moved. It was as if they were petrifyed. 

"Let me-- Let me go-!" Jonathan strained to reach into his back pocket and pull out his switchblade, unflicking it and stabbing it into the man's hand. The man let go in surprise, yelling in pain and dropping Jon. The sidewalk just got closer, and closer-

\---

Was it morning? It felt like morning... Must've just been another dream about being cool and heroic... Jonathan wrenched his eyes open, sunlight blaring through his window's partially opened blinds. His eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden light until he- wait...

This wasn't his bedroom. Come to think of it,

Fuck-!

His whole body ached. His left bicep throbbed and his left ankle wanted to kill itself. 

He looked at his surroundings. The room he was in was slightly bigger than the one he had in his apartment. The walls were painted beige and the floor was cold white tile. The bed he was laying on was covered with white bed sheets - now stained with his own blood - and the bed was pushed up against two walls. On the opposite wall there was a closet and a coat rack which held his trench coat and turtleneck. The door was on the opposite corner of the room. On the side table next to the bed there was a clock that read: 10:13, plus his switchblade and his phone. He blinked and felt the weight of his costume's mask still on his face. Guess he still had his identity at least... What did he just get himself into...? A light knock sounded at his door and he closed his eyes again, pretending to still be asleep. The door opened and equally light footsteps echoed onto the tile floor as the door closed behind the person. A slight smile could be heard in their gentle voice,

"I know you're awake..." 

Jonathan opened one eye and inspected his intruder.

It was a man who was slightly shorter than him, who wore a grey tailcoat over a lighter grey hoodie that had distinctive rabbit ears on the top of the hood. He had black pants and matching black boots and a blindfold wrapped around his eyes.

"How did y-"

"I'm good at those things," The man sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you-"

"I'm blind. If-If that's what you were going to ask." The man's smile didn't fade, "I'm Ohm." He stuck out his hand in a friendly manner, Jon returning the handshake. "I... Y'know, I just wanted to let you know that you've been completely unconscious for three days, twelve hours, and twenty six minutes now. They've made some breakfast downstairs if you'd like. Cartoonz is a lovely cook." Ohm offered kindly. "Only if you want to, though. No pressure." He giggled nervously and left the room, his footsteps disappearing down the hallway outside his room. Jonathan struggled to sit up, looking down at his bare torso which was littered in bruises. His left bicep was bandaged with slight overkill and his left ankle was wrapped in a makeshift cast, his pant leg rolled up just enough to go over the cast. Realizing his current state, he stood up on his right foot and limped over to the closet, opening it and snatching a crutch from the very back. He put it under his arm, adjusting its height and setting it aside to get dressed. Jon slid his grey turtleneck over his head and then draped his trench coat over his shoulders, making his way out into the hallway. The hallway was also tiled... and unsettlingly empty. He had no idea where the dining hall or whatever was. Besides, what even was this place? He scanned the walls and saw a sign that said "Cafeteria" with an arrow pointing down the direction that Ohm's footsteps originally disappeared to. Hopefully he was right about this Cartoonz guy being a good cook, because Jonathan was starving. 

Wait, could he even trust these people? I mean, they were his favorite gang. He's always looked up to them. No, scratch that, he's always wanted to _be_ them! Maybe this could be his chance... Just act all cool and tough, yet friendly and they'll all want to recruit y- Oh. The cafeteria. He pushed open the doors with his right shoulder to find ten people chatting and eating at a couple of the long benched tables and one person at the kitchen cooking up food. The side of Ohm's face twitched as if he heard something and he stood up and rushed towards Jonathan,

"I'm glad you could make it. Also glad to hear you found the crutch! Come on, the food's almost ready."

"How did you know I was here...?"

"It's all skill. C'mon! You can sit with me and Cartoonz once he's finished cooking." Ohm turned towards the man deemed Cartoonz at the stove, "Cartoonz! One more, please!" He yelled.

"Yup!"

Cartoonz was tall, and his skin was currently painted bright red as if like a disguise or some sort of trademark look. He wore an eye-patch and a black hoodie like Ohm's but Cartoonz's had horns of the top of the hood. There was something familiar about Cartoonz, but Jonathan couldn't quite put his finger on it. 

"Is this everyone in your... gang?" Jon asked.

"Hmmm..." Ohm stood up and slowly turned around, "It sounds like we have everyone except one. Don't worry. He'll be here soon. He's just a night owl." Ohm laughed quietly at his previous sentence as Cartoonz came out from behind the counter with two huge trays of plates, passing out plates of food as he made rounds around the tables. Jonathan smiled to himself at how friendly everyone was with each other. Although some of them were more austere and hard-boiled than others seemed to be, they were all way nicer than Jon initially expected a gang to interact with each other. Everyone began to dig into their food while Cartoonz set down three plates, one in front of himself, one in front of Ohm, and the last one in front of Jon.

"Thank..." Jonathan exhaled uneasily in nervousness, "Thank you..." He picked up a utensil, lifting up his mask just enough to expose his mouth, and took a bite. Standard bacon and eggs, but it was true, Cartoonz truly was a good cook.

"So, what brought you here?" Cartoonz asked gruffly, his narrowed, hypercritical black eyes scanning Jon head to toe.

"U-Uh-- Well, I-"

Jonathan was cut off by the loud slam of the cafeteria doors, and every head in the room turned to see an irritably slouched over man whose golden eyes were still half-closed from presumably lack of sleep. His warm black hair was spiked and haphazardly arranged on his head from sleeping and he had a bruise on his right cheek. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a baggy red hoodie, clearly not dressed yet. Upon seeing him enter the room, murmur started up in the cafeteria again, slowly rising to a group full of yelling. The tired man who'd just entered pressed one hand up to his temple and the other in between his teeth and let out a loud whistle, the whole room falling silent again. He sighed, frustrated, and sat down at a table. Noticing he didn't make another, Cartoonz shot up immediately from his seat on the bench and raced to the kitchen, making another plate of food. Ohm leaned in to whisper to Jonathan,

"That's our gang's leader, Vanoss. Tread carefully, I don't think he's noticed you yet." Ohm whispered.

"I don't think anyone's noticed me yet, honestly." Jon shrugged, hoping it'd stay that way. Cartoonz scurried back over, set the plate down hastily in front of Vanoss, who began absent-mindedly eating, Jonathan only noticing now that Vanoss had a blade in his right hand while his left was occupied with eating.

_Why does he have a blade with him?!_

Jonathan quickly finished his food, thanking Cartoonz (and successfully evading all of his questions) and stumbling back down the empty halls to the room he woke up in. He tripped upon entering the room and caught himself on the edge of the bed, purposefully rolling face first into the blood-stained bed sheets. He heard quick footsteps clacking towards his room down the hall before rapid, quiet knocking sounded on the door. 

"Come in..." Jonathan yelled, tossing the crutch he was using onto the ground. Ohm scampered into the room with a nervous look on his face.

"Eh- We're going on a mission right... Um, right now, so... Just... Stay here. If you leave then it'll make things a lot harder for all of us. I'll introduce you to everyone when we get back though, yeah?" 

"What?! What am I to you now? A prisoner being held hostage?" Jon stood up. Ohm's mouth twitched,

"Uh, on the brink of... technically, yeah."

"Oh my god..." 

"Just, please, rest your leg and your arm so you get better quicker. We don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Fine."

\---

_Now that they're gone, how the hell am I supposed to survive? I don't know this place that I'm trapped in, I'm "technically" being held hostage, and not only that - but by the most dangerous gang in town! Oh my... Ugh!_

Even if he did want to escape, they'd hunt him down and kill him. So... there goes plan A. Though, plan B is surely a hundred times crazier. Plan B: sneak out and follow them on their mission and watch them fight. Um... Yeah, let's go with that one. Jonathan got up, clutching his left arm, and grabbing the crutch off of the ground.

_Hmph. Do I really need this thing?_

Jonathan tested his left foot and put pressure on it without using the crutch.

"I'll probably be fine." He shrugged, tugging on his boots and ignoring the constant dull pain sprouting up his leg everytime he took a step. Jon got up, and took off at a sprint out the door, but skidded to a stop once he saw a sign at the end of the short hall.

"Armory".

Hell yes. 

He bolted to the left, down a small hallway with a single door at the end. He burst through the door and came upon rows and rows of shelves stocked with weapons. At the end of every shelved aisle was a board on the wall that held weapons. Every row was labeled with a name. 

Jon ended up picking up assorted weapons from a few different people's stocks. A knife from someone named "Smiity", a sledgehammer collecting dust from Ohm, and a beautiful sniper rifle from Vanoss.

(A/N Ok but can I just talk about how much thought i put into jonathan's weapons??? like i picked through his own videos, seeing him use a sniper over and over again, and his main in rainbow six siege is sledge and he always just recklessly breaks through walls like a madman. so, i think these were quite inspired choices. mwah perfecto* aaaaaaand back to the story)

He slung the sledgehammer around his back with a sling strap, and held the sniper in his right hand while putting the knife in his pocket. Jon started off at a run back down the hallway, turning a few corners and finally seeing a door with daylight cascading through its windows. He burst through the doors, squinting at the sudden change of brightness. The sun was bright, yet still just coming out from behind the horizon as light snow began to fall from the sky. Jonathan's eyes darted around. A parking lot. His gaze landed upon several tire tracks that appeared to ride straight out. He began to run. He didn't know how far they went, but he ran anyways. Every step he took, more pain shot through his leg than the last, and the sledgehammer was becoming heavy weight on him. His face began to sweat under his mask although the temperature was well below freezing outside. The further he ran, the more numb his feet became. By the time he ran a few blocks, he became completely desensitized by the pain of his leg and a snow storm was beginning to pick up.

"Please, no..." He groaned at the sky as heavy snow began to slowly pelt the ground. Just when he was about to give up and turn back around, he heard distant shouting and gunshots. Random pedestrian's cars began to swerve and drive away as fast as they could at the noises, leaving this side of the city completely barren.

_Yes._

Jon followed clustered trails of footprints in the snow he picked up. It was clear the tracks were very recent because the ground was only just covered in a thick enough layer of snow a couple of minutes ago. He didn't dare get too close to the noises, for he feared being noticed by the presumably opposing gang and being shot. So, instead, he began to climb a business's building. People seemed to be filtering out of the skyscraper, screaming and crying at the sounds of gunshots nearby, so Jonathan swam against the current and began climbing the stairs. He began to slow near the top floors, as he began to realize the sledgehammer was a mistake if he wasn't even going to confront any enemies face-to-face. Jon ended up tripping through the door to the roof, immediately tossing the sledge across the snow-covered roof and sliding to the edge of the building, peering over the side. He spotted the gang in front of a warehouse just a little ways down the street and positioned the sniper rifle to get a better look. It appeared as if Vanoss was backing up from an opposing gang, motion for the rest of his gang to back up behind him as well. He poised his hands around his torso as if he were about to throw them up in surrender.

_He's about to surrender?! There's only one guy left to take down!_ Jonathan observed, spotting the dead bodies littered around the scene. Jon wouldn't stand for this. In fact, he wouldn't stand for anything.

He knelt down closely to the roof and put his eye up to the scope, one hand on the mid-section of the sniper, and the other on the trigger. The intersection of the two lines aiming up perfectly with the man's head. 

_I hope I don't regret this later..._

Jonathan pulled the trigger and immediately got thrown backwards a few feet. He frantically scrambled to his feet, gazing over the edge of the building, where the whole gang was now focused on him. A few members had shocked looks on their faces and were frozen in place, others were clapping and cheering so loudly that Jon could hear them from where he was. Ohm just looked disappointed in Jonathan's decision to leave the building in the first place. Jon picked up the sniper to celebrate,

But now before a bullet grazed the temple of his face and another practically gave him a haircut, though thankfully missing his head. Although one missed, the first one still caught enough of his face that it caused him to begin to rapidly lose blood, and the last thing he saw was the gang running towards the building he was stationed on before he blacked-out.

\--- 

Jonathan's eyes were still tired when he came-to. His vision began slightly blurry, all he could make out was that he was in the same bed and room he was the last time he passed out and that there was a person sitting on the end of the bed near his feet. Jon blinked a few times, regaining his clear vision.

"Nice shot." Said the person at the end of his bed.

"Wh... What?" Jonathan sat up. The person turned around, and Jon immediately recognized him as Vanoss, "O-"

"I said 'nice shot'." He reiterated aloofly, avoiding eye contact.

"U-Um... Thanks." Jon smiled awkwardly. Vanoss shifted uncomfortably, crossing his legs and sitting opposite from Jon.

"Listen, I'm going to be clear and straight to the point, and you're going to give me a clear and straight to the point answer." Vanoss's cold voice rang. Jonathan was too intimidated to do anything other than nod his head.  
"I want you to join my gang."

Jon scrambled in his seat, attempting to get up, being cut off by Vanoss again,

"I wouldn't recommend doing that." He said, "You ran so far on your broken ankle that you managed to damage your foot back to where it was originally before you'd healed slightly."

At that, Jon relaxed back into his seat and shook his head as if he didn't hear something right,

"Right... B-But why would _you_ want _me_ to join your gang?!" He stared wide eyed at Vanoss through the holes of his mask. Don't get him wrong, he was thrilled to get the offer, but he just... didn't understand why they would.

"You seem reckless and injudicious enough to be a new member."

_Was that an insult...?_

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jon asked, a little bit offended, if he was being honest.

"Look. You don't seem to understand how a gang works. If I ran this gang and I just had eleven clones of Ohm running around here, do you think we'd get very far?"

"Uh-"

"The answer's no." He began to sound impatient, "You get the picture? We have the leader, the stubborn one, the doormat, the scary one, the awkward comedian-- You-You get the picture. Yet, none of my members would show the recklessness to run on a broke ankle across the city, climb up a twenty story building, and willingly shoot someone in the head. Even so, does that really come as a surprise to you?" He asked rhetorically, slicking back his hair with his left hand, holding his right behind himself. 

"I... I don't know if I can. It's a huge risk... What if I-"

"None of us have died yet." Vanoss cut him off, as if he could read Jon's mind.

"I'll... I-I'll join you." He said, timidly, "I'll join your gang." He sat up, speaking more confidently. The two sat together in a fairly uncomfortable silence for at least five minutes. Vanoss's slender fingers twitched upon where he rested them on his knees, except his right hand appeared to be heavily bandaged. Jonathan inhaled to speak, but Vanoss beat him to it,

"Who are you...?" He asked, finally looking Jonathan in the eyes, "Who are you _really_ ?"

Jonathan was confused by what he meant by that. But, he thought he understood.

A crazed laugh erupted from his mouth,

"Delirious."

"Okay. _Delirious._ "

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys sooo much for reading! I really appreciate it!!
> 
> [[Shameless self promotion that you can skip if you want lol]]  
> If you like this story and you haven't seen it already, you might like my other series Staked: (The Trilogy) [shhhh no one else knows that it's gonna be a trilogy yet shhhh] so if you want, you can go check out Staked, and it's current sequel, Static! (which i haven't updated in a while, but trust me, it's comin' <3)
> 
> Love you all!!!


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